The first gown they showed her nearly made her scream with delight. It was almost enough to make Louis Bourcet break their engagement at sight. It was a costume of a staring yellow brocade, with large purple flowers on it, and was obviously intended for a woman nine feet high and three feet broad—and Fifi was but a slender twig of a girl. One huge flower covered her back, and another her chest, while three or four went around the vast skirt which trailed a yard behind. The manager put it on Fifi, while her assistants and fellow conspirators joined with her in declaring that the gown was ravishing on Fifi, which it was in a way.
Fifi paraded solemnly up and down before the large swinging mirror, surveying herself. She was a quaint object in the great yellow and purple gown, and she knew it. Her face broke into a shower of smiles and dimples.
“It will answer my purpose exactly,” she cried. This was true, as it was calculated to give Madame Bourcet, and especially Louis Bourcet, nervous convulsions.
“Show me a hat to go with it—the largest hat you have.”
The hat was produced—a nightmare, equal to the yellow and purple brocade. Flowers, beads, ribbons and feathers weighed it down, but Fifi demanded more of everything to be put on it, particularly feathers. When she put the hat on, with the gown, one of the young women in the establishment gave a half shriek of something between a laugh and a scream. A look from the manager sent the culprit like a shot into the back part of the shop.
Fifi, gravely examining herself in the glass, declared she was charmed with her costume and would wear it on the day of her civil marriage. Then she demanded a cloak.
“One that would look well on a dowager empress,” she said with a grand air, knowing she had ten thousand francs in her pocket.
One was produced which might have looked well on the dowager empress of China, but scarcely on an occidental. It was a stupendous stripe of red and green satin, which might have served for the gridiron on which Saint Lawrence was broiled alive. It had large sleeves, which Fifi insisted must be trimmed with heavy lace and deep fur. In a twinkling this was fastened on, and Fifi approved.
“And now a fan,” she said.
Dozens of fans were produced, but none of them preposterous enough to suit Fifi’s purpose and her costume. At last she compromised on a large pink one with a couple of birds of paradise on it.